


Synchrony

by aTreeCat, essen



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Self-Insert, Team Minato is a fire hazard, Time Travel, oc-insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-09-26 04:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aTreeCat/pseuds/aTreeCat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/essen/pseuds/essen
Summary: Rin: Got hit by Truck-kun and reincarnated. I know, I know, so cliche. How about you?Obito: I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve got to get back. They gave me a week to accept the job offer and I’ve been here seven years now.Kakashi: I’ll save you all this time. Then I can retire in peace.Minato: I need more alcohol.Team Minato, featuring not one, but two OC-inserts, a time travelling Kakashi, and Haymitch, I mean, Minato.





	1. Kakashi

Kakashi hopped onto Sensei’s spiky stone hair high above the village and laid out a bottle of ink and a stack of paper. He thumbed through one of Sensei’s journals, the messiest one, the one Sensei had used in the beginning of his career. He wanted a nice and complicated seal, good practice for tackling the Hiraishin. There, a seal meant to move the caster to where they were one hour ago. Kakashi picked up his brush, tapped off the excess ink, and drew his first curve, elegant and bold. 

His mind couldn’t help but wander as he developed the sealing array. He had always wanted to learn the Hiraishin, but at first he hadn’t had the skill and then he hadn’t had the time. He finally tossed the hat to Naruto last year. Technically, he was still supposed to have an ANBU bodyguard, but a Shadow Clone was leading the guard on a merry rampage through town helping old ladies, helping old codgers, and putting cats up trees. Sensei’s notes were just too dangerous to let just anyone see. 

Kakashi surveyed the intricate seal spread out across four papers. Everything looked right. He tapped the entry point with a chakra-infused finger. 

A blinding white light burst through his mind and when he opened his eyes he saw Sensei. That wasn’t what the seal was supposed to do… why had Sensei put a projection of himself in his notes? “Sorry about that, Sensei,” Kakashi said. “I was just curious about one of your seals.”

Sensei smiled gently. He looked so young, like he was still a teenager. “All you have to do is ask, Kakashi. Not now, though. You need to pass the bell test with Rin-chan and Obito-kun.”

That was not in his mental script. Was this not a projection of Sensei? Was this some memory instead?

Kakashi blinked the remaining white spots away and took stock of the situation. He was in a training field with Sensei(?), Obito(!), and Rin(?!). Obito and Rin looked so young, younger than when he had first met them. He vaguely registered that Obito was wearing a bright orange scarf and Rin was wearing camouflage gear. Judging by the height of his vision, he was also a child. Maybe he messed up the seal? Inputted the wrong number of hours and somehow made himself move in time in addition to space? 

“What are you looking at?” Obito demanded. 

Rin slapped his back. Obito stumbled forward a step. “You’re so rude, Obito! Don’t listen to him, Kakashi-kun!”

Wrong, it was all wrong. Sensei and Obito and Rin were too young and that wasn’t Rin; she was too bold, too bright. Kakashi automatically formed the hand seals (it never hurt to check). “Kai!”

Nothing changed. 

“We haven’t started yet,” Sensei said, “but good thinking. If you notice something out of the ordinary, that could be a sign that you’re in a genjutsu.”

Not a genjutsu. It had to be the seal. He was in his past? That wouldn’t explain why Rin was so different though, so assertive. 

But then, maybe she had always been that way? It took conviction to fall upon the blade. Rin had always been righteous. Maybe in the process of trying to forget her death, he forgot her life. 

Rin asked, “Are you good at genjutsu, Minato-sensei?”

“I prefer ninjutsu,” Sensei replied. And Kakashi had followed in Sensei’s footsteps, practicing all of his ninjutsu until they were perfect. That had really helped him back when Obito’s Sharingan constantly drained his chakra. Kakashi discreetly checked his eyes with the blade of a kunai to make sure neither of his eyes were weirdly colored. Two black eyes. Good. 

Maybe it was the kind of genjutsu that only dispelled with pain? A kunai was already in hand, might as well try. 

Nothing changed. Except it hurt. Not a genjutsu then. 

“Kakashi! What are you doing?” Sensei grabbed for the hand with the kunai. Kakashi shied away. 

There was clearly something strange going on. He needed to gather more information and to do that he needed to play along. “I was just making sure it wasn’t a genjutsu. I can’t take your word for it when you’re my opponent, Sensei.”

Sensei stared at him. Kakashi stared back. As always, Kakashi won the staring contest. Sensei sighed. “There’s no need to go that far, Kakashi.”

“Mm, sorry, Sensei.”

Rin raised a glowing green hand. “I can patch you up, Kakashi-kun.”

“No need.” Rin hadn’t known iryojutsu out of the Academy. 

Sensei looked like he wanted to order Kakashi to treat his wound. “We’re going to do the bell test now. Remember, you have thirty minutes to get one of the two bells. Starting now!” Sensei Body Flickered into the forest. 

Obito whispered to Rin, “Is Kakashi okay?”

Rin whispered back, “Of course he is, he’s Kakashi.” Out loud, she said, “We should work together to get the bells.” She saw Kakashi looking and he automatically turned away. 

Obito pointed at him (now that was nostalgic) and shouted, “No way am I working with that stuck-up brat!” 

“Obito,” she said, “the test is about teamwork. Minato-sensei wouldn’t fail Kakashi-kun anyway. They’d just find two other genin to be on the team.” That was too advanced for Rin at this age. A spy would do a much better job acting, so if Rin wasn’t in disguise then she had to be an alternate version of herself? Kakashi vaguely remembered something about Naruto and Sakura going to an alternate universe where Naruto was named Memna and was evil or something. At the time he’d filed away the incident as one of those Just Naruto Things, but now he wished he’d paid more attention. 

Obito’s finger drooped. “Oh, yeah.” 

Kakashi said, “No need. I’ll get Sensei’s bell on my own.” 

“Wait!” Rin called after him. 

“What?”

“You can be the distraction. Obito and I will try to grab the bell when Sensei isn’t looking.”

“Do what you want.” 

Kakashi treaded lightly in the forest, relying on his nose to find Sensei. When the time was right, he stabbed a kunai at Sensei’s back. 

As Kakashi expected, the Shadow Clone popped and the real Sensei attacked from behind. Kakashi turned and used his kunai to redirect Sensei. 

They exchanged a few blows while jockeying for a better position. He couldn’t move as fast or as far as he wanted to, but he did the best he could with his younger body. Kakashi was becoming increasingly sure that this was the real Sensei, or at least a real version of Sensei. He could never forget Sensei’s combat style after the years beaten into his subconscious. 

Kakashi jumped onto a tree branch to get a breather. 

He was going to tentatively accept his alternate universe hypothesis. Sensei and Obito were about the same, Rin was… not Rin. 

Kakashi winced as Obito and Rin stepped on twigs and dead leaves at the edge of the forest. 

Rin said, “Try using the Great Fireball Jutsu when Minato-sensei gets distracted by Kakashi-kun. I’ll grab the bells when he’s off-balance.”

“That could work,” Obito replied. 

Didn’t they know that Sensei could hear them? In any case, he’d use them as a distraction to finally get the bells from Sensei. Kakashi threw kunai to herd Sensei in front of Rin and Obito. Sensei played along to see how Rin and Obito would use the opportunity. 

“Great Fireball Jutsu!” Obito spewed a lot of fire at Sensei. 

There was much more fire than expected, and Rin’s chakra was mixed in it. Both Sensei and he decided to jump out of the way. If he remembered correctly, Rin and Obito became friends in the Academy. Obito must taught her how to use the Great Fireball Jutsu. 

“Do it again!” Rin shouted. 

“What? We’ll burn down the training ground!”

“How could two little Academy students destroy a training ground? More fire!”

Sensei was being heckled in one direction by great bouts of fire and the other direction by Kakashi’s kunai. Still, it wouldn’t be enough. Kakashi spat water at the fire jutsu. The two elements collided and exploded into thick mist. 

This was his chance. 

Kakashi activated the Hiding in the Mist Jutsu, adding to the mist already in the air. Like most shinobi, Sensei’s smell was nowhere as good as his hearing. Kakashi smothered his presence and killing intent and snatched the bells from Sensei. 

The little metal balls jingled merrily in his palm. He could hardly believe it. 

Sensei used a wind jutsu to sweep the mist away. Oh. Sensei had been going easy on him. Whatever, he had done the same for Naruto and Sakura. Sensei clapped. “You pass. Congratulations!”

Rin bounced into the clearing that Sensei and he were standing in. “Just as keikaku’d!” she crowed. 

Obito followed her, groaning loudly. “I cannot believe you actually said that.”

Sensei asked, “When did you all get so good?”

Kakashi said in a deadpan, “I’ve been training since I was three.”

Rin chirped, “Me, too, actually.” A stronger Rin could only be a good thing. 

Obito scratched the back of his head. He said with a wide grin, “Hehe, I’m gonna be Hokage. I have to be at least this good.” 

Rin slung an arm around his shoulders. “That’s the spirit.”

Kakashi couldn’t help but smile. He will make sure the three of them live to accomplish their dreams. Even if they weren’t  _ his _ precious people, they were the Kakashi’s of this world’s. He was going to save their lives and then undo the jutsu, putting the rightful Kakashi back here with everyone he loved (if this was an alternate universe, was his dad still alive?) and himself back home where he belonged. 

“That’s great,” Sensei said. “Rin-chan, Obito-kun, why don’t you let your instructor know you’ve passed my test. Come back here around noon and I’ll take us out to lunch. Kakashi, with me.” Obito and Rin walked away; their backs were so small. Sensei looked down at him; his face was so young. Or maybe Kakashi was just old. He looked up at Sensei. Kakashi vowed that this time Sensei would live to see his grandchildren. “Kakashi, do you want to tell me anything?” Sensei spoke mildly, but that was when he was most dangerous.

Kakashi stuck his hands in his pockets. “You should think long and hard about your future children’s names.” There, Naruto could thank him later.

Sensei placed a hand on his hip, not quite grasping a weapon. “Maybe we should start with this: where did you learn the Hiding in the Mist Jutsu?”

The answer was “I used my, I mean, Obito’s, Sharingan to copy it from a Kiri shinobi.” He couldn’t say that though. Sensei would never believe him. He needed a much better excuse. And there was no excuse better than the truth! “I used Obito’s Sharingan to copy it from a Kiri shinobi.”

Whatever Sensei had been expecting, that was not it. “Excuse me?”

Kakashi folded his arms. “It’s all your fault, Sensei. I was trying to decipher some of your fuinjutsu notes and ended up here. You should take responsibility for your future actions.”

Sensei’s eyes narrowed. “Explain clearly or I’ll have to assume you’re a hostile shinobi.”

“But I told you, Sensei. I was trying to use some of your space-time jutsu and it took me back to the past.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Something you’d believe, huh. I could show you the jutsu, but you haven’t written it yet. I could say something about Kushina but you’d assume that was tortured out of me. Oh, I know. Imposters can’t fake the Summoning Jutsu.” He bit his thumb and summoned Pakkun. 

He briefly wondered if he’d get his Pakkun or this world’s Pakkun. 

An elderly Pakkun said, “Hey Boss, what did you get into this time? It felt like I was dragged into another dimension.” He did a double-take. “What happened to you?” He noticed Sensei and did a triple-take. “Definitely another dimension. What have you gotten into this time, Boss? Get it, Boss? This  _ time _ ?”

Kakashi beamed at two of his greatest friends. “See, Sensei? Now all you have to do is summon a toad and have him confirm that Pakkun is in fact a summon.”

Pakkun gave Sensei a paw’s up, “You’re looking pretty spiffy there, Minato-sama.”

Sensei was starting to look like the time Kushina dragged him out for ramen the fifth time in one day. “Sure, Kakashi.” 

That sure was a toad. Gamatora, was it? One reason dogs were superior to toads: dogs had cool and unique names like Bull and Urushi and Akino instead of Gamabunta, Gamahiro, Gamatama. 

“Gerotora-san, I want you to verify that Pakkun here is a summon.” Gerotora. He was the toad with the key to the seal of the Kyuubi.

Gerotora blinked at Pakkun. “Indeed, he is.”

Pakkun yawned. “In case any of you were wondering, the toad’s also a summon.”

Kakashi scratched him behind the ears. “Duly noted.”

Gerotora turned to Sensei. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you, Gerotora-san.” Sensei just looked at him for a long minute. “So what was that about Obito’s Sharingan?”

“I tell you that I came from the future and  _ that’s _ what you want to ask about?”

“I was wondering how you got his Sharingan.”

“Oh, it was after I became a jounin. We were on a mission, it went poorly and Obito got his Sharingan. Unfortunately, things happened and he gave one to me as a graduation gift.”

Sensei was getting that overprotective dad look in his eyes. “Who did it? (Who do I need to kill?)” Pakkun hid his face behind Kakashi’s knee. Kakashi patted his head. 

“Iwa.” Maybe Minato would kill two thousand Iwa shinobi this time. 

Minato hummed. “Could you reconcile something for me, Kakashi? According to you, Obito got his Sharingan during a future mission. However, Obito already has his Sharingan.”

“What.” Was Obito also from the future? But there was no way, Obito would never have been able to act as cheery as he used to be. This dimension’s Obito must have activated his Sharingan at an earlier age. Kakashi sorely needed to do some recon to find out just what was going on with this alternate past. “Alternate dimension things. So how are things going between you and Kushina? Have you proposed?”

“We’re not even dating yet!” 

“Yet? You’re going to ask her soon?” Kakashi gave Sensei a Look. 

Sensei’s face turned as red as Kushina’s hair as he weakly spouted protests. Some things never changed. 

Kakashi gave him a Knowing Look. “Like I said, you should give some real thought to your children’s names.”

Somehow, Sensei blushed even harder. 

“Come on, Pakkun. This dork needs to carefully consider the fact that food items are not good names for children.” 

“Kakashi, we’re not done here-”

“See you at lunch, Sensei!” Kakashi scooped up Pakkun and Body Flickered away. 

With Pakkun at his side, Kakashi walked around the village, cataloguing each building, inhabitant, and landmark he could find. When he got to his apartment lot though, all he saw was an empty plot. 

He scratched the back of his head. “So where do I live again?”

Pakkun placed his head in his paws. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:  
Obito panicked, and he watched as there before him, his left eye spawned another tomoe.  
Obito panicked some more.


	2. Obito

Obito jerked awake.

Where’d he put his phone? What time was it?  _ When did he fall asleep? _

No phone under his pillow – whatever, he can deal with that later. What mattered now was that he didn’t remember if he’d submitted his Japanese essay or not, and it was due at precisely 9:09 AM. Bright sunlight glared through the window, not a good omen.

His computer had the time. It would tell him whether his grade was officially doomed or not.

He jumped off the bed, and was it taller than usual? No, he’d deal with that later. He padded to his… where was his desk.

Where was his computer?

Oh no, he had a terrible feeling about this. He planted his hands on his hips, paused, and took stock.

Where was he?

Those were not his curtains. Pale yellow with splotches of green and red? Whose taste ran that bad?

That was not his bed. Not those awful light orange, almost yellow, sheets worsened by the clash with the junkyard scrap curtains.

There was a sad, bare desk (certainly not his) sitting in the corner and toys littering the floor. Actual toys. He accidentally stepped on a rubber kunai, styled very much like the ones from that Naruto anime he had watched as a kid. And, okay, look. Watching and enjoying anime was one thing, but collecting toy kunai? What a weeb, whoever’s room this was. Now that he looked more closely, the curtains were patterned with brownish shuriken alongside the splotches.

What was up with this place? He’s like 90% sure he didn’t touch alcohol last night (he couldn’t, not with an essay due (actually, that’s a terrible alibi); he did, however, have a celebratory shot with his roommate after his inbox pinged with an offer letter last morning – but that was ages ago). So how had he ended up here?

He eased open the door, and – screw the room, screw his essay – why was he a  _ midget _ ? The doorknob was at his eye level, and that was not right. He was a good 5’10, and doorknobs were not placed that high.

And… he had midget fingers. At least his pajamas were pretty cool? A shade of red between sanguine and ruby, even if they were patterned with the three tomoe mark reminiscent of the Uchiha Sharingan. Someone was seriously taking this Naruto theme too far.

To the bathroom it was. He clambered up the stepstool ( _ stepstool  _ – how far he’d fallen) and. Crap.

This had to be a dream. 

Staring back at him through the mirror was a chubby-cheeked boy of maybe five with a flattened bedhead and blood red eyes, the same shade as his pajamas.

Obito panicked, and he watched as there before him, his left eye spawned another tomoe.

Obito panicked some more.

Screw the room, screw the essay, screw  _ life  _ – he let out a bloodcurdling scream that could easily be classified as a girlish screech, but that was fine, he could blame his prepubescent voice.

He didn’t wake up.

No amount of self-pinching and bashing his head against the bathroom counter was fixing anything and his eyes were still Sharingan red and goshdarned he’s got an essay due and a job offer to accept but now he’s some anime character and what was his life and why wasn’t he waking up and  _ ahhhhhh  _ his voice was getting sore from screaming.

Okay, deep breath. And again. Now once more,

_ AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! _

A knock at the door.

Okay, deep breath. For real this time. He cleared his throat, hopped off the stepstool, followed the knocking to the front door with another absurdly tall doorknob, and found a concerned old lady.

She started to speak Japanese at him, and he happened upon enough sense to nod along at the appropriate places.

Then his brain caught up. He realized 1) she’s calling him Obito-kun, 2) he’s still got the Sharingan active, and 3) she’s asking after his mental well-being.

Pickled plum juice, was he really  _ that _ Uchiha Obito from  _ that _ anime? With that realization, his brain shut off again, and the only Japanese he could think of was “Boku wa kami da,” a reference he didn’t even know where from. But this was clearly not to place to be calling himself a god. Not in front of this kindly old lady watching him with worry scrunching her face.

He opened his mouth (very proud that another scream did not escape) and said, “Boku wa kami da.”

Crap. The old lady’s look escalated from concerned to horrified, and Obito accidentally shut the door in her face when he meant to shut his mouth. Crap. He opened the door again and spat all the formal words and phrases he remembered with a formal ninety-degree bow, and that seemed to have things rectified. More or less.

He invited her in, praying that he could somehow access this Obito’s memories and figure out who this lady was. Fortunately, though, he could just call her Baa-chan, and that was alright for now. (Thank  _ kami  _ for Japanese.)

First things first, she shut his Sharingan down with some hand seals and glowing hands placed over his eyes, and the world fell to flat monotone. He almost protested, but somehow, suppressing the Sharingan suppressed his hysteria, which was probably good. It made conversation easier, at least.

Still, everything was so much more vivid through the Sharingan. He almost wished for it back.

(No, stop it. You’re dreaming. This isn’t real.

But another pinch and he was still seeing the same scene.

Pickles above, why is this his life.)

By some miracle, he convinced the granny that he was fine. Just a bad nightmare was all. He gave his best smile and showed her back out the door, and she left with the promise to bring her clan-famous yakisoba next time.

Even after she’d left, the image of her stuck in his mind – every wrinkle and gray hair and suggestion of horror behind her concern. She favored, just slightly, her left leg, and Obito knew instinctively that’s the way to knock her down.

What a scary thought.

Scarier, though, he was Uchiha Obito.  _ The _ Uchiha Obito, from  _ the _ Naruto anime? Who didn’t die but got evil via Madara and plotted that crazy what’s it called, Ultimate Takoyaki or whatnot? He wasn’t fated to do all that, was he?

Or was he going to wake up soon, forget about this stupid dream, and turn in that stupid Japanese essay? Maybe watching so much anime as an excuse to study Japanese was not such a good idea. But then again, this was really darn cool for a dream.

He’s Obito, he’s got the Sharingan, and… what else could he do?

He could become an evil mastermind. Or he could use his - what’s it, Kamui? – to do good.

Wait, didn’t Kamui operate on something like dimensional travel? If this somehow someway wasn’t a dream, did that mean when he got the Kamui, he could get back to his old world, turn in that goshdarned essay to keep his 3.0 GPA, and accept that job offer from his dream company?

Gah. Three deep breaths, then figure life out. 

Right. What first? Bash his head into the wall and hope this world dissolves away? Been there, done that, hasn’t happened yet. Next. Confirm his identity? Great idea. Just to be sure beyond all reasonable doubt that he was indeed  _ that _ Uchiha Obito and not some kiddy doppelganger with the same name. Just in case, ya know.

He slipped into the only pair of shoes at the door and stepped out. The amount of Japanese architecture cut a scene straight from his textbook. Wooden buildings, courtyard houses, little shops and eateries lining the street. He admired it all from the second floor of his two-story apartment building, and only broke out of his reverie when a kimono-wearing couple waved up at him.

“Good morning, Obito-kun,” the woman said. “How are you?”

They looked familiar in some way, and Obito placed it when the man spoke. “I’ve heard that you have awakened your Sharingan.”

That condescending rumble – Uchiha What’s-his-face, and his wife Pretty-lady. AKA Sasuke and Itachi’s parents, heads of the clan. Welp, this was the Narutoverse alright, and if that’s the case:

The Uchiha’s planned coup. The Uchiha massacre. The Uchihas’ bugged up everything.

Gah, was he supposed to do something and stop those?

Him, a twenty-one-year-old piece of trash barely passing his classes, somehow with a job (that he’s gotta go back and accept) and still single – him, a nobody, change this world? Dear pickles,  _ no. _

What a joke. Hahahaha.

If he laughed long enough, would the universe give him a break and send him back?

Unfortunately, space-time did not rend a hole for him, but What’s-his-face still waited for a response.

“Haha, yup! Checked off step one to becoming an evil mastermind!” Obito shut his mouth, shut his eyes, shut his brain, and hit restart. “Haha, I mean, yes, sir. Yessir. Yes, Mister. Sama. Yes, indeed I have awoken my Sharingan. Yes.” He stumbled over the language some but probably got his point across.

Very fortunately, Pretty-lady laughed into her fan. “Very good, Obito-kun. I’m sure Hanae-san and Yoshiyo-san would be very proud of you.”

He took a not-so-wild guess that Hanae and Yoshiyo were his mom and dad. Speaking of which, he hadn’t called his (real-world) parents in over a week – any longer and they’d pitch a fit when he went home for break. If he went home.

“This is quite unusual, for a Sharingan to appear without cause. Did something happen recently?” What’s-his-face rumbled, not as condescendingly now that he’d confirmed Obito was a Real Uchiha with the oh-so-special Sharingan.

Obito couldn’t figure out if there was a question within the question – geez, he chose a profession that dealt more with numbers than people for a reason – so he said, “Just a bad dream.”

What’s-wrong-with-his-face looked constipated, like someone had mashed a terrible pun into a poop joke and chucked it at his face. “I hope you’re on your way to registering with the department.”

“Uh,” Obito gulped, “that’s exactly where I was going. Which department?”

It was like middle school all over again, when he was acting out as class clown and his history teacher had sat him with a dunce hat in the front of the classroom. Terrible. He wondered if What’s-his-face housed some part of Mr. Kramer’s grouchy soul. Though, acknowledging that thought would be admitting to this whole traveling soul thing that he definitely did not fancy admitting to.

A slight twitch of the eyebrows turned unconvinced into unimpressed. “The Records Department at the Uchiha Library. Surely you’ve been there.”

Records. Library.  _ Jackpot _ .

Who in the world(s) was Uchiha Obito – the answer was in reach.

“Oh, absolutely I have. Just not in years. Which way is it again?”

“Left, dear,” Pretty-and-nice-lady said, placing a hand on her husband’s arm. “Turn the corner at Satsua-san’s bakery and follow the path.”

Obito bowed, mumbled a thanks, and scrambled away before Kishimoto had to redraw Stupid-face with a permanently scrunched forehead or, more likely, before Obito shoved not only his foot, but his whole goshdarned leg in his mouth.

The Uchiha Library looked like a drunken genius had started laying the framework for a temple then thought halfway through it would be cooler to make a castle. Then realized he was commissioned to build a library and stuffed the inside with shelves and scrolls and haphazard offices to suit the commissioner. Old parchment and fresh ink wove their scents into the air, only to be overwhelmed by natto as he drew nearer the Records Department office. Someone was smart to shove them in the very back corner of the building.

“Excuse me,” Obito said in a nasally voice after squashing his nose against the perfectly heighted counter for doing so, “I’m here to register as a Sharingan user.”

The desk lady looked up. Then looked down.

“Hello,” she said, doing a double-take at his (lack of) height, “Sharingan registration? Do you have a parent or guardian with you?”

“No?”

She pulled out a sheet from a shelf of papers and looked at him skeptically. “Do you know how to write?”

“Some?”

The scrunchy brows must be an Uchiha thing, because the lady pulled the very same face What’s-his-face and even the kindly granny did as she studied him. “Name?”

“Uchiha Obito.”

“Father?”

Uh, uh – oh! “Uchiha Yoshiyo. I think.” 

_Thank you_ _Pretty-lady_.

“Mother?”

“Uchiha Hanae?”

Her frown deepened as she scribbled down his hesitant answers. By now, he’s almost certain that this lady was the source of the pungent natto stench, all moldy socks and dead rats, and it made his stomach churn.

“Date of birth?”

“December 15 th , 1997.”

The pen stopped. She looked at him and, with a full on breath of nasty, said, “Repeat that for me?”

Obito gagged. “December fifteenth, nineteen ninety-seven.”

Wait.

No.

Okay, universe, listen up here. Hyper realistic setting based off an anime he watched once upon a time? Sure, give it here. Dress him in the role of a looney warmonger? Why not. But throw natto at his face in a stuffy room without A/C and quiz him in a life-or-death fashion on that anime on that loon? 

Please. 

Obito clenched his teeth, breathed out slowly, and said, “Excuse me.”

Then ran back home.

Maybe, hopefully,  _ please Lord or lords and Buddha and life and death and pickles, please _ , if he just went back to sleep, he’d wake up and find this all to be a dream.

Obito jerked awake.

Ugly yellow curtains, almost-orange bedsheets, tiny hands, and a stepstool in the bathroom.

Obito screamed. 

(His right eye popped its second tomoe. What is his life.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:  
They shook, once. Rin imagined a dramatic backdrop, waves crashing against rocks to commemorate their partnership.


	3. Rin

Nine out of ten self-insert Naruto fanfics start like this:

You were just going to school or work when you get hit by Truck-kun. Then you find yourself in a very comfortable warm and dark place. You get squeezed out, you cry, you look at your tiny baby fingers, you cry, you hear some Japanese and you see some man or woman wearing a Konoha headband and you faint, because you don’t know what to write next. You “happen to” meet canon characters and become their best friend forever (aka future wife), or you get a canon character as your little brother or sister and resolve to die for them. 

All that reliving the childhood crap was overdone and more importantly,  _ boring _ . Jessica K. Fawley, attorney-at-law, had done a much better job with her own SI fic. 

She had been… on the I-90 and… Truck-kun hit her car and sent her to inhabit the body of Nohara Rin. Being a child again was not worth what she had to give up. She had been on track to make partner at her law firm within five years. 

Enough about Jessica.

Rin was born to Nohara Sadashi, sperm donor unknown (Sadashi never said and Rin never asked). The Nohara clan was just the two of them since everyone else died in one war or another. Sadashi probably would’ve died, too, if Rin hadn’t guilted her into staying home to raise her. Canon Rin might very well have been an orphan. Sadashi had told Rin that she would be raised by Sadashi’s Akimichi teammate if she died. Maybe that’s how canon Rin turned out so nice and why she wore clan markings. 

Canon Rin was also proficient at medical jutsu so Rin assumed she would have some talent for it and studied what passed for medicine. Taijutsu was hard but hey, if she could make it through law school she could make herself exercise. Genjutsu was useless with so many Uchiha antagonists around. Ninjutsu had to wait for her chakra reserves to grow. And that was it. There was no need to out herself as some kind of genius or kami forbid, prodigy. She didn’t want that kind of attention. 

Wow, look at all this information covered in 367 words that could have taken ten or twenty thousand. 

You might say, “But Jessica, don’t you need to show not tell? Don’t you need  _ worldbuilding _ ?”

And you would be right in most cases. But telling has its place. You don’t want to read ten chapters of Rin finding her way through this version of the Naruto world. (If you do, let her know and we’ll see if she can release it). 

You want to see her meet Obito for the first time. Because, as we all know, the only reason Rin is relevant is Obito. 

It was a bright and sunny spring morning in Konoha. Rin made sure Sadashi wasn’t on a mission so she could walk her daughter to the Academy. It was nice and Rin rewarded Sadashi with a flower plucked from a blossoming sakura tree. 

Rin greeted the teacher and Sadashi subtly threatened the two of them to behave. It was nice. 

There were more kids than Rin expected, probably because of the Second Shinobi War. Child soldiers, yay. Hopefully the war would end before she graduated. Then again, the Third Shinobi War would be starting soon enough anyway. She saw mini-Genma, mini-Shizune, and mini-Obito and slipped into the seat by Obito. 

She  _ could  _ avoid him like the plague but in her eyes the situation was like this: Obito will go crazy because Rin will die. She was not going to die; ergo, Obito won’t go crazy. (In the case that she did die, she wouldn’t care if he went crazy.) Besides, if she avoided Obito he might develop an obsessive crush on someone else instead and do unpredictable crazy things instead of predictable crazy things. 

“Hi, is this seat taken?” Rin asked. She went ahead and unpacked her school supplies. 

“Hai! I mean, hi! I mean, no. This seat isn’t taken. Nice to meet you, I’m Uchiha Obito.” The poor kid couldn’t even look her in the eye. Wow, he really fell for Rin fast. Maybe he would stop wearing that hideous scarf if she said she didn’t like the color orange?

“Nice to meet you, Obito-kun, my name is Nohara Rin. Let’s be friends, but only friends, okay?” Out of habit, Rin held out a hand.

“Yes! We are going to be the best of friends.” Before she could come up with a way to withdraw her hand naturally, he took her hand and shook it. 

He took her hand and shook it. 

That changed all of her plans. 

“We need to talk,” she said and started reworking her goals with a collaborator in mind. Obito tried to say something but she hissed, “At lunch.” 

Whatever the instructor said, Rin had no idea. When lunch time came around, Rin dragged Obito over to a quiet-looking place under a tree. 

“What is it, Rin-san? I said we’re going to be friends, right? I don’t have any plans of falling in love with you or anything. Honest to pickles.” He clasped his hands together. 

“That’s good to hear,” she said. “So what have you been doing these past five years?”

He looked at her funny. “Five years? Uh, training, probably? Helping people?”

She leaned on the tree trunk and waited for him to elaborate.

Obito scuffled with the grass as he rambled about how he had been babysitting and performing D-rank-like tasks for his relatives. Rin saw a puppy seeking approval. She let him go on until it was clear he was just going along with the flow as opposed to following a plan. 

“Have you done anything about the Uchiha Massacre?” she asked. 

“But Itachi hasn’t even been born yet,” he replied. If she wasn’t 100% sure of Obito also being a reincarnator before, she was now. 

“So? Itachi’s not the reason the massacre happened.”

“Oh yeah.” Obito suddenly pointed at her. “Hey! How do you know about Itachi?”

Rin pushed his finger down. “Obviously I also reincarnated into the Naruto world.”

“Oh,” he blinked. “You too? Have you figured out how to get back yet? I mean, I’ve been thinking summoning jutsu or seals or even my Kamui when I get it, but I haven’t got anything solid yet. How long did you say you’ve been here? Five years? Gee, that’s a long time. I have no idea how you’ve been able to get through it. I’ve only been here two months and it’s felt like forever.” Only two months? “I have to get back. There’s a job offer I’ve left hanging and I don’t know how much time has passed over there, but it’s really important and I have to turn in this stupid Japanese essay to pass a class - can you believe it? I’m failing a Japanese class in that world - and also I haven’t had pizza in _ages. _”

Obito blinked again, and those large round eyes made him look like an owl. He slapped a hand over his mouth and looked like he wanted to fly away. “I mean, uh,” he said through his fingers. “How have you been?”

She wanted to say, get a hold of yourself. Two months is nothing. 

Then again, two months might not be long enough to accept his situation. 

She folded her arms. “It’s been a long five years, but it’s my life now so I’ve been living it to the fullest. I was planning on befriending Obito and making sure he doesn’t go crazy, but it looks like you’ll be just fine. What were you planning to do with canon?”

He ducked his head. “I’ve just been doing Obito-ish things. You know, getting lost and helping grandmas.” At Rin’s disapproving look, he wilted. “My Sharingan. I’ve been practicing with my Sharingan.”

Finally, something useful. Rin made sure to show her interest. “Oh? When did you activate it?”

“When I woke up as Obito. Guess that was scary enough to count as trauma.”

“I have to admit, I’m impressed. Tell me all about how it happened and what you can do with it later.” Obito stood a little straighter. Rin placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. She made sure she held his gaze. “That said, are you telling me that you plan on following canon all the way? Were you going to let the rock fall on you and let me die?” 

Obito recoiled. “No, no, no, I don’t want any of that to happen. I was just going to follow canon so I could change it at the right moment.” 

Rin kept her hand and gaze steady. “If I just let canon happen, Sadashi would be dead right now.” 

“Sadashi?”

“Rin’s mother.”

“I didn’t know Rin had a mother. I mean, of course she had a mother. You have a mother.” 

She nodded. “And not just Sadashi. Should I let people die in the Third or Fourth Shinobi Wars if I could prevent them?”

“You can prevent them? You have a plan already?”

She waved it off, letting go of his shoulder in the process. She stepped out of the shade of the tree, into the sunlight. “Maybe I can, maybe I can’t. I won’t know for sure unless I try.”

He took a deep breath. “What if you make it worse? What if because of your interference, people die who shouldn’t have? What if people suffer more than if you stayed out of it?”

Rin paused for a few seconds, to let him know that she was taking his concerns seriously. Then she nodded once, slowly. “Then I make it worse. I’m aware that I may not know best. I know that these lives are real. But that’s why I’m willing to take the risk. They deserve better. And with you helping me, I think I’ll stand a better chance. You’ve already activated your Sharingan. You have a kind heart. The world needs people it can trust with power. How about it? Will you work with me to make the world a better place?” Rin held out her hand to him again. 

Obito gulped and twiddled with the hem of his scarf but to his credit he never once broke eye contact with her. “You sure dream big. I’ve never done anything big in my life. But you’ve got a point. Besides, I’m Obito now, and Obito wants to do good like that. So,” he said, stepping into the sun and taking her hand. “I’m willing to try.”

They shook, once. Rin imagined a dramatic backdrop, waves crashing against rocks to commemorate their partnership. 

“By the way, how did you know I wasn’t really Obito? I thought I was doing a pretty good job.”

Rin looked down pointedly at their joined hands. 

“OH.” He dropped her hand real quick. 

“We should spar together,” Rin decided, “and we should share any ninjutsu the other can use. I have Water and Fire nature, what about you?”

“If I had to guess I’d say Fire,” he said. “Most of the jutsu I know is supposed to be Uchiha-only, but if you don’t tell anyone it’s probably fine. Probably. Like really, don’t let any of the Uchiha know. They’re nice people and all, but phew-wee do they take this clan stuff seriously.”

She clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit! We’ll bring a culture of collaboration to this village, one jutsu at a time. You sound American, is that where you’re from?”

“Yeah. You, too?”

Rin flicked her hair back. “I’m from Chicago.”

“Oh! I got a job offer there, too! It’s probably too late to accept it now though.” He took on a kicked puppy demeanor. She didn’t like that look on him. How to get rid of it?

“You’ll be in charge of genjutsu,” she told him, “and I can handle fuinjutsu if we ever get a chance to learn. I’d say I’ll handle the iryojutsu, but it would be nice if our whole team was competent in healing. I guess it’ll be up to me to convince Kakashi to learn.”

“Oh yeah, we’re going to be on a team with Kakashi.” Obito grinned. “How cool is that?”

Rin pointed out, “He was a dick when he was this age.”

Obito’s eyes curved as his grin threatened to split his face. He looked much better like that. “I can just yell at him if he annoys me. You have to be nice to him though.”

“Just because I’m Rin doesn’t mean I have to pretend I have a crush on him.”

“But you have to convince him to learn healing jutsu.”

“Touché, Obito, touché.” 

As a trial run and step 1 of the “being nice to Kakashi plan,” Rin made their first goal preventing Sakumo’s suicide. 

She had Obito take the lead because canon Obito was a fan of Sakumo and besides, Obito was better at being genuine than she was. They tracked down Sakumo and found him in the marketplace, surrounded by harsh whispers and angry glares.

“Hero-sama! I mean, White Fang-sama! You’re my hero!” Obito shouted. 

Rin nodded vigorously. 

Sakumo smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

Obito said, “I want to be just like you when I become a ninja. I’ll have a cool sword, maybe orange colored instead of white, do you think they’ll call me the Orange Fang? Actually, I don’t know kenjutsu yet, but I can learn. And I’ll protect Rin and my friends even if it costs me my life!” Rin jabbed him in the side. “Uh, I mean, it’s better if I live with my precious people, because living is good. They would be sad if I died for them.” 

Rin nodded eagerly. “I would never want to lose my mom.”

She could tell it wasn’t working as Obito babbled on. Sakumo was just humoring them, letting the precocious kids talk, but he wasn’t really listening. Maybe he was listening but his mind was already made up. She wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him. She wanted to shout in his face, “Don’t kill yourself you damn fool.” 

But she didn’t want to blow her cover. Her canon knowledge was only an advantage because no one (besides Obito) knew she had it. 

A crotchety old man yelled, “Hey, if you’re not buying anything, get out of my store!”

Rin clenched her fist. It wasn’t fair. Sakumo didn’t deserve any of this. 

Sakumo patted Obito on the head. “Thanks for your kind words, kids. Are you going to attend Academy soon? I have a son there, his name is Kakashi and he has silver hair like me. Look out for him, okay?”

She watched him leave, Atlas bearing the weight of the village on beaten and hunched shoulders. 

She watched him leave and she knew they failed to save him. 

She knew when she let that man walk away that she was letting him die. Giving up on him. 

But what she also knew was that nothing she said or did would have stopped him, even if she convinced him that she knew the future. His eyes were those of a dead man walking. 

What she should have done was prevent him from having to make that decision. Prevent missions where people had to choose between their duty and their friends. Change the way people thought, the values of this world, so that instead of killing what was hurting them, people could just sit down, talking through their problems. 

It was too late for any of that. For Sakumo anyway. There was only one way they could save him now. She had to ask. Rin closed her eyes. “Obito, how do you feel about using the Sharingan to make Sakumo not kill himself?”

Obito said, “I can do that? Well, even if I knew how to do that, I’m not sure I should. I mean, letting him kill himself is pretty bad, but isn’t taking away his free will worse? If we’re going to be brainwashing people… we might as well join Madara, ya know?”

“Don’t worry, I was just thinking. We’re better than that.”

Rin opened her eyes. There were still people she could save. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:   
“You’re a moldy laundry,” Minato muttered, just loud enough for Kushina to hear. She laughed bright and tingly and loud and harsh, beautiful like the color of her hair.  
It’s impossible not to love her.


	4. Minato

“Sho I wash thinki-”

Kushina shoved his chin upward, and he narrowly avoided de-tongueing himself. “Chew, then speak.”

Minato swallowed and tried again. “So I was thinking - ”

“You can think?”

“Kushina!” Minato groaned as Kushina cackled into her bottle and Chouza grinned at their antics. “It’s about Kakashi.”

Kushina belched, and Minato had to remind himself that it was the patient shinobi who stole the golden squash. Golden kumquat? She grinned at Minato’s pained expression. “Your son? What’d he do, murder someone? ‘Cause then I’d need to find him now and buy him some ramen.”

Inoichi raised his beer. “I can drink to that,” he said, then did. “You know the bottle pointing at you mean it’s your turn to ask the questions, not to commiserate over your students?”

“I am not conimi- commimi- doing that,” Minato protested. He grabbed another piece of over-fried chicken in the hopes of warding off the progressive effects of alcohol. It was getting hot in the stuffy tavern, and Minato tugged his vest collar. “My question is for Chouza. My good man, if one of your students confessed to being a time traveler from the future, what would you do?”

Chouza laughed heartily at that, and Minato frowned. His good man was not taking the question seriously. “I’ll take the truth.” Bastard probably wouldn’t feel the alcohol anyway if he drank. “I’d ask him what he’s doing here and why he was telling me this, then ask if he needed me to help.”

“Aww,” Kushina squealed. “What a wonderful sensei!” She emptied her bottle, the third - fourth? - of the night. Stupid demon fox, probably getting drunk on her behalf. 

Minato fingered the rim of his unfinished second beer and cosimi- cominimisi- and thinked. Was he supportive enough for Kakashi? He’d immediately thought  _ enemy infiltration  _ when Kakashi confessed. But Kakashi had also confessed a bunch of things that made Minato’s head spin thinking about it. 

Anyway - he stuffed the Kakashi-thoughts aside - never before had Kushina drank to Minato being a good sensei, and he’d had Kakashi for a year now. Unfair. “That’s what I would do too,” Minato declared. “I, too, am a wonderful sensei.”

But all Kushina did was share a secret-sharing look with Chouza, the traitor, and laugh. “Drink more, Wonderful-sensei! Then spin the bottle for us!”

With a pout, Minato did. The bottle pointed to Chouza. Minato scowled.

“For Kushina: Minato, or unlimited ramen for the rest of your life?”

“Ooh,” Inoichi crowed, “That’s a good question.”

Kushina, for her part, thought a bit. Looked at Minato. Then drank. And stuck her tongue out at him.

Minato’s scowl deepened. “Spin,” he commanded. He had a question to ask now.

Inoichi’s turn. “Chouza, your three baby genin are suffering from a poison and you only have enough antidote to save one - which do you choose?”

What a terrible question. Minato would refuse to answer. If the situation ever came up, he’d try to save them all, of course.

“Can I ask if one of my students was the poisoner?”

“Plot twist!” shouted Kushina, and a man from the booth over shushed her. Minato glared at the man and made the two-finger, eye-to-eye ‘you’re dead, man’ gesture. He mustn’t’ve understood, because he smirked before making a kissy gesture back. Minato had absolutely no interest in making out with a rude man like that.

Back at their table, Inoichi leaned in to whisper, “And who would do that?”

Chouza grinned. “That’s an extra question, but two of my little sweetbuns can drive any sane man mad, and the third… has a keen interest in poison.”

“How terrible,” said Minato. “Your genin must be an awful handful. Mine showed beautiful teamwork today.” Well, beautiful was subjective, but he couldn’t just let Chouza one up him. “And you never answered the question fully.”

With a shrug and zen smile never leaving his face, Chouza drank. 

Next was Kushina, and Minato felt an unbearable sense of dread. She batted her pretty red lashes at him. “Me, Kakashi, and your two new students lie bleeding in the field and you only have enough time and chakra to transport one of us back. Who do you save?”

Minato stared daggers at her, hearing the trick in her question. She had the Demon Fox and thus had super healing. Choosing her would be the wrong answer. Kakashi…

If this was his Kakashi and not the time-travelling, dimension-hopping Kakashi, the answer would be obvious. But now all he could think about was the weary, time-scarred look no child should bear when he said he was from the future. His Kakashi, if Minato chose to rescue him, would gawk at him in confusion. Sakumo had left behind a gaping wound, and this would be a stitch toward healing.

This Kakashi, however, had long come to terms with Sakumo. Now, Minato read from the raw shock and feigned casualness, his ghosts were his teammates - and Minato himself. Something had happened to them, and Kakashi would never forgive Minato for allowing the same to happen again.

That left Rin or Obito, both students he had known for half a day. Students he knew had possibly died in the future. He drank. The alcohol and the company must have made his lips looser than usual, because after two sips he said, “Uchiha Obito.” 

That was the correct answer to the loaded question. An Uchiha, for one, and the key to future-Kakashi’s past for another. The question rolled and flipped in his mind to another side. Rin, with her iryojutsu and cool head. Though good medics - even ones as young and raw as Rin - were a precious commodity in Konoha, the Sharingan was indispensable.

Kushina would pull herself together with the Nine-tail’s chakra and her Uzumaki blood, and take care of Rin. Rin could save herself and possibly Kakashi. Obito would be safe.

But why did the right answer feel so wrong?

Another sip. The bottle bumped his nose before finding his mouth.

Actually, he thought, with alcohol to clear his mind, the correct answer was to improve his Hiraishin and whisk them all to safety. It was still too dangerous, unreliable. 

Kushina grabbed the bottle from him, startling him from his thoughts. Her throat stretched a fragile, graceful curve as she gulped down the rest. Then she swiped her mouth with the back of her hand and thwapped down the bottle. She regarded him, a curious light catching her violet eyes like the sun through summer leaves. 

He blinked, and the magical moment disappeared, the sun fleeing the cover of storms. 

Hiraishin, he remembered and boxed away for later, so he could save them all when the time came. 

Inoichi’s turn again. He directed a question at Kushina, and she spat a name Minato knew he should hate.

He couldn’t recall it, though, so he reached over and stole Kushina’s bottle. The bitter liquid burned as he swallowed.

“Woah there,” Inoichi said with a placating gesture, “We’re not commiserating tonight, remember? You have to air your grievances in the sun like moldy laundry; the night is for merriment and debauchery.”

“To merriment and debauchery! And murder in the night!” Kushina pounded the table, rattling the army of bottles and silverware on cracked plates. Inoichi chuckled into his drink and Chouza grabbed his chopsticks to rescue the last of the fried chicken. Minato’s gut churned when Kushina grinned at the two, sparing no mirth for him.

“You’re a moldy laundry,” Minato muttered, just loud enough for Kushina to overhear. She laughed bright and tingly and loud and harsh, beautiful like the color of her hair.

It’s impossible not to love her.

Chouza leaned over to stage whisper, “You asked for it, Inoichi. Ask cheerier questions; this isn’t T&I.” 

The bottle spun in a whirling blur after Inoichi let it go, and when it stopped, it pointed in a direction more Minato than Chouza. Minato reached to firmly claim the round, but the neck of the bottle kept moving more than he told it to. Chouza, his good man again, helped him out.

What was his question again?

He stood, stumbling as he hip checked the table, and faced Kushina. Took in her luscious red hair, reflecting the soft light of the tavern, her dancing eyes filled with wonder and passion and story, and her twitching lips that gated back a smile more radiant than fire. Took in the dirt and blood under her nails, the rough cotton bandage casting strange shadows across her cheek, and the hitai-ate that bore as many scars as the one it protected.

And - 

That was his last memory of the night. Words on his tongue, alcohol in his blood, longing in his heart. 

The next morning, he woke up in his bed (and checked his state of undress under the covers). A glass of water sat on his night stand accompanied by a note. 

He reached for the water first, guzzling it all down so future-Minato (hah, like future-Kakashi, but not and, by kami, he’s still drunk) doesn’t hate him in the later hours. Then he took the note, a flowing, round script on the back of the bar’s tab record.

_ If you forget your promise, I’ll kill you -K _

It smelled of alcohol and vague threat and Kushina’s apple-y shampoo. Maybe it should have been more unsettling, but all he could picture was Kushina dragging his drunken ass to his apartment and throwing him on top of his bed, taking the time to lovingly wrestle him under the covers.

He had it bad, didn’t he. 

Note in hand, he retreated back under the covers to trace each letter with a giddiness that could only partially be attributed to alcohol. He still wasn’t sure what he asked or how Kushina responded, but his gut roared that last night ended fantastically, and he’d learned over the years to always trust his gut.

(His gut also yelled at him to flip the note over and check the sum from last night, but he’d also learned over the years that sometimes his gut was a bastard.)

Light flared through the window with the passing of a cloud, and Minato’s gut chimed up again. Morning training with his new gaggle of genin. Individual assessments with sharp-witted Rin, excitable Obito, and otherworld Kakashi. 

Minato fervently prayed to whichever gods were listening that his team wouldn’t set the forest on fire again. Then he threw himself under the covers for his last five minutes of peace.

  
  


Iwa declared war on Suna, and Minato was caught blindsided.

Between his team’s excessive pyromania in the name of team bonding, Kushina’s unrelenting enthusiasm, jounin-level missions and team D-ranks, and his own personal training to squeeze in the moments between, Minato had little energy to spare for deciphering the political atmosphere of the Great Shinobi Nations.

He heard the news at a bar of all places. Then again, bars were where tongues slipped loose with the drink of the heavens. 

Maybe Minato had heard things before, hints he could’ve strung together if he thought to. Actually, he was pretty sure Kushina had brought it up many a time, but he was a bit too smitten still to pay much attention. Point was, Team Minato’s straightforward in-village courier mission went awry and Minato somehow ended up with half the Konoha River dumped on his head.

Wait, that wasn’t quite the point. Point was, freezing water did wonders as a sobering agent, and Minato walked into the bar after sunset more awake than ever.

Inuzuka Kaien was the most vocal and likely the most drunk at The Rustic Hop House, and Minato listened and absorbed details with a clear mind.

Point was, fuckin’ Iwa. 

Again with the wars? Team Minato was still running D-ranks cleaning up after the last one.

Minato ordered another beer.

Maybe that was why he and his fledgling team were getting straddled with so many missions lately. Needed to get all hands on deck and speed up village recovery and all that.

At least the rumors were interesting, ranging from the simple “lord employing the services of foreign shinobi,” to the spicier “son caught in the panties of an inappropriate party.” There might have been more - something involving shaving cream and desert scorpions - but Minato was getting a bit woozy from his drinks to remember the finer details. 

Of course, the next morning his genin were more informed on these rumors than he was. They had that tendency of knowing much more than they should - and maybe Minato should be more suspicious, but he didn’t think he could handle another confession like Kakashi’s time/dimension travelling. Just Kakashi had already made Minato turn to the bottle. If Rin or Obito turned out to be a spymaster or undercover agent or some other secret identity, Minato didn’t know what he would do.

“Sensei, is it true that Iwa and Suna are now at war?” was the first question he got peppered with that morning. Rin, cross-checking her facts. Spymaster material there.

Minato nodded.

Next up, Obito with, “I heard some head honcho guy walked into the wrong room with the wrong bed and wrong girl from the wrong country.”

Minato rubbed his temples. “Is that a question?”

“And, uh. Yeah. That’s what Tsuto-bachan was saying. Got chased out by giant scorpions. Turns out they were former lovers of something? A Romeo and Juliet, ya know. Or I guess you wouldn’t know. Er, I guess my question is, so why are they going at it again so soon?” 

Kakashi broke out of his contemplative fugue to give Obito a side-eye. “The guy and girl, or Iwa and Suna? As for the former, with a guy and a girl, there’s this grown-up concept of passion, and passion, especially if you sprinkle some conflict into the mix, can lead to - ”

Obito eeped.

“Iwa and Suna” Minato said loudly, “have been in constant conflict over the river that runs between then. This summer’s drought on top of all their war reparations must have pushed them over the edge.”

Kakashi pouted, Rin nodded, and Obito reverted back from wine red to Uchiha pale, with only a light flush to his cheeks. 

Minato made a note to talk with Kakashi about what was and what wasn’t inappropriate to say around kids. He had a hunch Jiraiya may have had a role in Kakashi’s past upbringing after Minato… died.

Anyway.

“Will we be assigned a C-rank today?” Rin asked. Two sets of ears perked. “Otsuki-sensei left the village on a C-rank with her team two days ago. So long as we avoid the West and anything involving Iwa or Suna, we should be fine.”

“Holy pickles, yeah!” Obito whooped. “A C-rank!”

A C-rank, Minato agreed, might be good for them. Get them to work off some of that energy at least and think about something besides mischief and their ten million questions on jutsu and training.

“A C-rank,” Kakashi muttered. “Better hold off on the alcohol, Sensei. Who knows what sort of situation we’ll end up in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick poll:   
Of our four <strike>heroes</strike> troublemakers, who shall wreak the most havoc on their upcoming C-rank? Who shall get the most rekt?


End file.
